


What the Heart Wants

by AkuChibi



Series: What the Heart Wants [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Eventual Romance, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Medical Conditions, Self Confidence Issues, Therapy, congenital analgesia - medical condition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3208427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkuChibi/pseuds/AkuChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin knows he has issues, but they are nothing compared to Liam's. Things wouldn't be nearly as awkward if Kevin could stop picturing the guy naked. This would be easier if Liam would stop sending him nude photos. M/M. T for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Heart Wants

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how to put this, really. It has 2 parts so far; they are both just one-shots. I guess I can make it a series? Hmm... We'll see, I guess. Anyway, this is a one-shot requested by someone on another site, and I like the formatting here better so I'm posting it here, too. 
> 
> There are probably a ton of mistakes in this; I apologize. I have no beta and rarely proofread anything before posting as I will lose my nerve and then not post at all.

 

 

**What the Heart Wants - 1 (The Australian in Therapy)**

_By AkuChibi_

“Kevin, honestly, you have to be more careful,” my sister says, dabbing the antiseptic rag over the slice on my knee. She says it is lucky it doesn’t need stitches but I didn’t feel it to begin with.

I shrug. “That’s what I have you for.”

She settles me with a quick glare.

Kelly is a lot like me with that glare. We look very similar, prompting people to ask if we were twins growing up. I’m two years older than her, though I’m short for my age. She’s tall for hers. Her eyes are the same shade of dark brown as mine, and we share the same dark blonde hair except hers is long and straight and mine is short and buzzed.

It’s a little unsettling being glared at with my own eyes.

“Seriously, Kevin. You could really hurt yourself if you’re not careful.”

“I can’t hurt myself if I don’t ever feel hurt,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, all bow down to Kevin the Invincible.”

I grin. “Clean my shoes while you’re down there. I think I stepped in something.”

Kelly sighs dramatically, tossing the rag aside. She’s already bandaged the wound. I felt the pressure from the bandage as it was being applied to my leg but other than that, I felt nothing.

“I think you should see a therapist or something,” Kelly tells me quietly.

I stare at her, because those are words I was not expecting to hear. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she says. “I’m serious, Kev, I’m worried about you. You’ve broken a bone at least three times this year.”

I nod. I’m still healing from my last misstep – literally. I broke two toes because I didn’t feel them slam against the edge of a table. I don’t exactly _suffer_ from congenital analgesia – or, the inability to feel pain – but Kelly and everyone else seem to think it’s such a burden. I’m just happy I don’t know what ‘pain’ they’re talking about. Why isn’t everyone like this?

“I’m fine, Kel,” I tell her, moving to stand up but she shakes her head, grabs my wrist and pulls me back down so I’m sitting in front of her again on the couch. “Kelly.”

“I’ve already signed you up for an appointment with Dr. Syan,” Kelly tells me.

I frown, recognizing the name. “Your therapist?”

“Ex-therapist,” Kelly says.

Right. She stopped seeing him a year ago, and not in the romantic sense. She used to go to him after she had a miscarriage on her first child. She hasn’t tried to get pregnant since, though I know her new husband wants kids. He was her boyfriend at the time of the miscarriage three years ago.

“Kelly, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine,” I tell her. “Really.”

She sighs heavily. “I already made the appointment, Kevin. Please, at least go to him once or twice. If it doesn’t help, then you don’t have to keep going. The appointment is in two days.”

I want to argue. Tell her I can’t believe she signed me up without asking, because now if I back out, she will probably still have to pay for the appointment. Then I will feel guilty for costing her money like that when she’s already tight for cash as it is, working as a waitress for the roadhouse downtown. She makes decent money on tips, but even that can only help so much since her husband is currently out of work. If I make her pay for something and don’t even go to the meeting…

So I want to go, for her, but I want to argue. I didn’t ask her to sign me up for anything. I’m _fine_.

“Alright,” I sigh finally, shaking my head. “I’ll go. One time.”

Her face lights up like it’s Christmas, her grin contagious as I find my own lips tugging upward. Her arms are immediately around me. I wish I could really feel them, but I can only get a sense of pressure from the contact. “Thank you, Kev! I know you don’t want to, but I think it will help.”

“Whatever you say,” I say quietly.

xXx

 

“So, Mr. Anders, tell me about yourself.”

Sitting across from Dr. Syan as I am, I can almost feel relaxed. His couch is incredibly comfortable and the room is dimly let, going for an easy atmosphere. It succeeds.

“Not much to say,” I tell him honestly. “I’m sure it’s in my file.” I nod at the manila folder next to him.

He nods, looking at me over the rim of his glasses. “You were diagnosed with congenital analgesia when you were five. A mild case of it, is that right? But at age ten the case was said to have worsened. Your sense of touch is effected as well, correct?”

I shrug. “Yep.”

I used to be able to feel hugs.

It’s odd not to feel them anymore.

“I see. And how does that make you feel?”

I fight the urge to laugh. He sounds like the stereotypical therapist. I know it’s what they have to ask, but still. “I’m fine,” I tell him. “My sister made me come. I don’t actually need to be here.”

“I see. Are you angry with her for signing you up to see me?”

I shrug. “I can understand her concerns, but I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, Doc. I’m fine.”

His pen makes this scratching sound as it moves across the paper attached to his clipboard which he holds in his lap. It’s at too odd of an angle for me to make out what he is writing, but I will admit, it makes me feel a little self-conscious. I squirm a little in the comfortable cushions of the couch, taking in a slow breath.

“Tell me, Mr. Anders-”

“It’s just Kevin,” I tell him.

He nods, looking at me with those dark brown eyes. “Tell me, Kevin, how is your personal life?”

“Um… That’s personal.”

“I only mean to ask if you are involved with anyone.”

“Still personal, but no. I’m not.”

“I see. And when was the last time you were physically involved with someone?”

“Uh…”

Now I’m getting noticeably uncomfortable. I mentally curse the fact I let Kelly talk me into seeing him.

“Does that matter?” I finally ask.

“It is only a question, Kevin. If you do not wish to answer, you don’t have to. We can talk about whatever you want.”

I shrug. “I haven’t been ‘physically involved with someone’ in a few years now.”

Huh. I didn’t think it’d been that long.

I’d been celibate for a long time.

“I see,” he says. “And why do you think that is?”

“Because I can’t find the right guy?”

“Guy,” he echoes, quirking a brow at me. “You prefer men?”

“Uh… prefer is a strong word… but I like them,” I tell him, shrugging. “I like girls, too, I guess. Is that a problem?”

People are more open-minded these days than they have been in the past, with various states now open to gay marriage, but that does not mean everyone accepts it.

“It is not my place to judge,” Dr. Syan tells me calmly, and I relax a little. “Why is it that you think you have not found the ‘right guy’?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because you fear having contact when your sense of touch has been damaged?”

I close my eyes. “Another subject, Doc.”

I didn’t know this bothered me until I couldn’t answer his question.

And suddenly it’s all I can think about.

xXx

Why have I been celibate for years?

Because I don’t need the contact, I tell myself.

I don’t need someone sleeping next to me at night. I don’t need someone there when I wake up. I don’t need it.

But a part of me wants it. Wants something normal like that. Wants to feel the pleasure at another person’s touch. Wants to feel someone sleeping next to me.

But I can’t. I can’t feel things like that.

So… celibacy seems easier. I can’t give them the satisfaction of letting them know I appreciate their touches because I can’t really feel them. There is no point in trying anything with someone if this will inevitably get in the way.

_“When was the last boyfriend or girlfriend you had?”_

I was fifteen. This girl in my class was cute. Her brother was hot. I tried things with both of them and never felt anything. I wouldn’t say they were really ‘girlfriend’ or ‘boyfriend’, but they were the closest I got. I’d never really had close relationships like that.

I last had sex three years ago. Mitchell was a nice guy, but it’s hard to cum when you can’t feel his ass clenching around you, or feel his hand or mouth on you at all. I feel pressure; more than that is… difficult.

So I haven’t tried since.

There is no point.

I never thought this bothered me until I went to see Dr. Syan.

Maybe I’ll go back next week and see what else I can learn about myself.

xXx

Weeks pass.

What I’ve learned about myself so far is that I fear personal connections with people outside of my family. I have friends, but they are mostly online; they don’t live near me. I met them in college. I dropped out of college a year ago and moved back to my hometown. Nostalgia, I guess. I don’t really know why I left.

A part of me wants to go back. I miss the rush of a social life. I miss the classes.

Dr. Syan theorizes that I left because I might have been getting too close to someone. He is right. There was this guy, Donny. He was great; we hung out a lot. But when he tried to make a pass at me… that’s when I left. I didn’t realize his pass and me leaving college were connected until now. Maybe I did fear personal connection.

I also learned I am letting my condition control me, though I had no idea that was possible. How can ‘I can’t feel pain’ control me? If anything it should be freeing.

“This week,” Dr. Syan tells me at the end of our weekly session, “I want you to try to have a better social life. Go out, have some fun. Meet new people. Let things turn out how they will on their own. Don’t force anything, and don’t run away. How does that sound?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” I say, waving at him as I leave.

xXx

Kelly is excited to go to the Casino with me. She’s been pestering me about it for a year now, ever since that place was built, but I’ve always declined her invitation to join her and her husband, Dan. Until now, that is. Now we all three walk into the large, crowded building.

“If you get lost, call me,” Kelly tells me, practically yelling over the loud music with beats you can feel in your feet.

“Okay,” I say back, but she’s already disappeared into the crowd with her husband.

I shake my head and look around. Slot machines are mainly what I see. I have never gambled before. I’ve never seen the point in wasting money when I could instead buy something with it, but I’m here to have fun. Doctor’s orders – literally. So I move toward a machine and sit down, bringing a hand up to press at some of the buttons. I have no idea what any of them mean or what the symbols on the screen mean as I start to gamble.

To my surprise I come out five bucks ahead on that machine, and cash out. I’m ready to be done for the night even though it’s only been a few minutes, but I know we won’t be going for a while. So I move to another machine, sit down and try again.

This time I come out ten bucks beneath what I started with.

I go to another machine.

And another after that.

By this point I’ve resigned myself to the fact I might not walk out of here with any money. I came here to waste money, after all. I knew this going in. But even so it leaves me sighing heavily.

In the end, I actually win twenty dollars, and Kelly wins a hundred.

So, the night isn’t a total loss.

xXx

“How was the Casino?” Dr. Syan asks on Tuesday, our weekly session.

I shrug. “It was fine. Loud.”

“Did you win anything?”

“Twenty bucks,” I say. “It was okay. I don’t think I’ll go again, though.”

“I see. The important thing is that you tried something new.”

“I guess. So, what’s on the agenda for today, Doc?”

“Tell me about your parents.”

I shrug. “Not much to say, really. They were great. They died when I was sixteen.”

It’s still a painful memory even though I’m twenty-three now. It’s been seven years since they died in a car crash went they hit a patch of black ice, but it still… hurts. It’s the only real pain I’ve felt. I’m not sure what to think of it.

“You loved them very much.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“What did they think of your condition?”

“Dad thought it was awesome,” I say, smirking. “He wanted me to be a wrestler or something. Mom was terrified I would kill myself before I hit twenty if I wasn’t wrapped in bubble wrap.”

“I could imagine it was scary for her,” he tells me. “No one wants to hear their kid can bleed out from a wound he doesn’t even notice.”

“I guess.”

“Who raised you after their death?”

“My uncle,” I tell him. “Dad’s brother. He’s pretty cool.”

He lives in a different state, though. Kelly moved back here the first chance she got, after her miscarriage. Change of scenery, and probably nostalgia like me. We visited Uncle Carl on Christmas usually, though.

“And what did he think of your condition?”

“He was cool with it.”

He wasn’t as enthusiastic about is as Dad, but then, when I moved in with him he’d just lost his brother and sister-in-law. He was probably scared he was going to lose me, too, since I couldn’t feel anything life-threatening like a knife in the back or something. He was always weaving stories about how careful I needed to be in case something like that happened.

I always told him he was overreacting. Now I can see how he would worry about such a thing. Funny how things change.

Dr. Syan looks up at the clock. “We still have ten minutes left if you wish to discuss something else, but you are free to go for the day if not,” he tells me with a smile.

I nod and get to my feet. “Talk to you next time, Doc,” I tell him as I move to take my leave.

I walk out of the door and nearly trip over the legs extended there.

Those legs retract quickly, the person sitting up in the seat in which they’d previously been slouching. Tired green eyes meet my own, a hood pulled tight over what looks like spiky black hair.

“I’m sorry, mate,” the guy says with this accent which is… adorable. Freaking adorable.

“Australian,” I say out loud.

He blinks at me and then smiles. “Right you are. Born and raised there. Moved to America about seven years ago. Kept the accent.”

I smile. “Accents are awesome.”

“So the ladies say.”

I shrug. “Women are fickle. They fall for accents.”

He laughs. “And men aren’t?”

“No. We’re more complicated than that,” I say, grinning at him.

He chuckles and shakes his head even as Dr. Syan pokes his head out of his still open office door.

“Mr. Jones, I can see you now.”

The guy gets to his feet as Dr. Syan goes back into his office. He holds his hand out to me, which I accept.

“I’m Liam Jones.”

“Kevin Anders,” I tell him. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, mate. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe,” I say with a nod.

He slips away, then, entering Dr. Syan’s office. The door closes and I turn to walk away.

xXx

Liam becomes a regular of Dr. Syan, occupying the timeslot directly after mine. When I first met him I thought he was happy; now I know otherwise. Sometimes he is in a good mood, but a lot of times he is not, and will nod at me in greeting but won’t smile. He looks like someone who actually needs to be here. Now my problems seem… childish. I don’t know what he’s been through to give him that look, but it can’t be good. I’m only here because I apparently can’t handle not being able to feel pain. Most people would rejoice at this fact.

I used to do just that. Now…

“Hey,” I say after my session one day, before Liam goes into Dr. Syan’s office, “I’m hungry. Would you like to get something to eat after you’re done?”

He eyes me warily. “I don’t know…”

“You’re still new in town, right? I could show you around,” I offer. “But if not, that’s cool. I don’t mind.”

Dr. Syan said to make new friends, after all, and Liam looks like he could use a friend.

“Okay,” he finally sighs, shrugging, his hood still pulled up to cover his head. I’ve never actually seen him with that hood off, to be honest. It’s like he’s hiding behind it. Maybe he is. “I don’t get out until nine.”

That’s an hour away.

“That’s cool with me,” I tell him. “I can wait.”

“Alright. See you then,” he says, and then slips into Dr. Syan’s room.

I wait patiently in that little waiting area, looking through some of the random magazines left sprawled on the table.

Time passes quickly, without me really noticing. I’m in the middle of reading an article about celebrity divorces when the door opens and Liam steps out, smirking at me. He appears to be in a good mood now.

I grin at him as I put the magazine down.

“Anything good?” he asks, gesturing at the magazine I’ve just discarded as I get to my feet.

“Nope,” I tell him. “Ready to eat?”

“Yes,” he tells me. “Lead the way. I don’t actually have a car.”

“I do, so I’ve got you covered.”

He nods and we leave the waiting room, vacating the building.

My car isn’t anything spectacular. It’s an old Honda Civic with more rust than color, but it’s reliable and gets me from point A to point B faster than walking, so I don’t mind it. I rev the engine and pull away from the curb as Liam is fastening his seatbelt. The scent of aftershave fills the car. I can’t place the scent, really, but it’s not bad. I actually kind of like it.

“Anything in particular you’re hungry for?” I ask him.

“Anywhere is fine.”

I shrug and take him to the roadhouse downtown. My sister isn’t working tonight, but a lot of the staff still know me. I know we will get good service, and I’m hungry for steak.

I park the car and we enter the restaurant. Liam smiles at me.

“How did you know I love steak.”

“Wild guess,” I say with a chuckle.

We quickly get a seat since it’s a slow Tuesday night and they are getting ready to close within the next hour or so. After the waitress – a girl named Molly – takes our drink orders I focus on the guy sitting across from me.

His hood is down.

I stare at him for a moment.

“What?” he asks.

“Your hood is down.”

“Oh… yeah. I take it off in restaurants. It’s rude to keep it on.”

“I’ve never seen it down.”

He smiles, flashing me a row of perfect teeth. “See something you like?”

I stare at him a little more. Is he hitting on me, or just joking? At this point I honestly don’t know which I would prefer. Having him flirt with me is… appealing, but a part of me immediately wants to run. Starting something with him is not something I need right now.

I smile back. “I’ll let you know,” I tell him cryptically, and he laughs.

He has a nice laugh.

The waitress returns with our drinks and we order our food. She scurries away.

It’s pretty empty in the steakhouse tonight. Even so the atmosphere is… nice. The music is soft at the moment. The lights are dim as they always are in here. Normally this is great; right now it just feels… romantic.

I don’t know what to do with myself at the moment.

_Maybe this was a bad idea._

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to go eat. It sounds like a date. I didn’t mean it as one, but if he interprets it that way… I don’t want to give him the wrong signals.

_Or maybe I do…_

I just don’t know anymore.

“Relax,” he tells me.

“What?”

“You look like you’re about to bolt,” he says, watching me. “I’m not that terrible of company, am I?”

“No, of course not,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I’m just, uh… I don’t know. Ignore me.”

“You invited me here,” he says. “Why?”

“I…”

_I don’t know anymore…_

“You’re new in town,” I finally say. “I didn’t think you knew many people. I thought I could… help. Be friends, I mean.”

“Sure,” he says. “Sounds good.”

xXx

“I think it’s great that you asked him out,” Kelly gushes a few days later. I knew Molly would tell her about it.

“I didn’t ask him out,” I say. “It wasn’t a date.”

“It was a date! Just maybe not the romantic kind,” she says, grinning at me. “Oh, I’m so proud of you!”

“Ack, woman!”

“Oh, hush,” she says, still hugging me tightly. “This doesn’t hurt.”

I roll my eyes. “My pride is hurt. You think I can’t get a date.”

“Never said that, Kev,” she says, pulling back. “You just never try. I’m happy you have a new friend. What’s his name, again?”

“Liam,” I tell her. “Liam Jones. He’s Australian.”

His voice isn’t filled with a heavy Australian accent, but rather a dulled version mixed with American since he’s lived here so long. It makes for this interesting combination.

“He sounds awesome,” Kelly says. “I hope you two have fun.”

xXx

Weeks turn into months. Liam and I have been ‘best friends for life’ as Kelly puts it, for a while now. It’s going on the four month mark. I don’t need to see Dr. Syan anymore, so I stop going there. I still talk to Liam and occasionally pick him up from Dr. Syan’s office. I like having a friend again.

This all changes one night as I’m dropping Liam off at his apartment across town.

He usually says goodbye, climbs out of the car, waves, and enters the apartment complex. His apartment is on the third floor. This time is different, though. He hesitates very briefly before he turns toward me, fingers curling around the front of my shirt. And then he pulls me toward him and his lips meet mine in a dominating, rough kiss which I never saw coming.

I freeze. I don’t know what to do.

I like this. I do; I just can’t. Relationships are complicated.

I shove him away and avert my gaze. He sighs heavily. I can feel his eyes on me.

“Sorry,” I say. “I don’t want to date anyone.”

“Who said anything about dating?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Yeah? Well, then don’t send me those pictures.”

I look up at him, frowning. “Pictures? What pictures?”

Now he’s frowning, too, looking adorably confused. “You sent me two naked pictures of yourself.”

My mouth hangs open wide. “I did no such thing!” I splutter, staring at him. “W-What… You’ve seen me naked?!”

“Hey, it came from _your_ phone,” he says, shaking his head.

“I didn’t send anything!”

“Then who did?” he asks.

I stare at him blankly for a moment, before I sigh heavily. “Kelly,” I hiss. She did this. She’d asked to use my phone the other day because hers was charging and she needed to send her husband a text. I didn’t even think about it because it was just a text, and she borrowed my phone before. Now, though…

_I’m going to kill her._

“So you didn’t want me to see anything,” Liam asks, just to clarify.

And now my face is burning. “Um,” I say intelligently. I’m still trying to figure out how she even got a naked picture of me. How the hell does this happen…

 _Oh_.

She walked in on me in the shower. Accidentally, I thought. She was doing laundry and picked up the dirty towels and everything as I was getting dressed. She must have secretly taken a photo for this very reason.

“How naked are we talking, here,” I ask.

“You had a towel partially around your waist,” Liam says. “Very suggestive.”

_Oh, God, kill me now._

“R-Right, um… w-well I didn’t send the pictures.”

“Obviously.”

We sit in silence for a long time. I have no idea how to make this less awkward. My mind is frozen at the moment, so the words just tumble out of my mouth.

“How did I look?”

Liam is staring at me now. “I kissed you, didn’t I?”

I release a slow breath. “Right. W-Well, um… thanks. I think. But I don’t want to date.”

“I never mentioned dating,” he says, chuckling as he opens his door. “Doesn’t mean we couldn’t have a little fun now and then.” He winks and shuts the door before turning on his heel and heading toward the opening of the apartment complex.

I stare after him, choking on the lump in my throat.

xXx

“I don’t need you meddling in my social life!”

Kelly frowns at me. “I thought you liked him.”

“I… I don’t know, but… That’s entirely not the point!” I snap, glaring at her. “You sent him _nude photos_ of me?!”

“Semi-nude,” she corrects. “ _Semi_. And you two like each other, so why not? You need to get out there again, Kev.”

I want to keep snapping at her. I probably would if it weren’t for my phone vibrating suddenly in my pocket, accompanied by a little rhythmic sound signaling I have a call. My fingers easily pluck it from my pocket and bring it to my ear.

“What?” I all but snap, still glaring at my sister.

“I’m… sorry,” Liam says hesitantly. “Is this a bad time?”

“No,” I say, scrubbing a hand across my face as I turn away from my sister. “It’s fine. Did you want something?”

“Just wanted to say I’m going to make this even,” he tells me.

“… What’s that mean,” I ask slowly, because there’s this certain inflection in his voice I just can’t place.

He laughs. “You’ll see.”

And then the call ends, and I pull the phone away from my ear slowly. What the heck is that about?

A second later the phone vibrates again in my hand, but this time only once. A simple text.

Sighing heavily, I open the text.

And nearly drop the phone because _holy shit_.

Another text.

**_Even now_ **

I can only stare down at the screen. Curiosity piqued, Kelly moves to stand next to me, peering at the phone as well. I realize this a second too late to stop her from seeing the image before I quickly pocket the phone.

“I, um… gotta go,” I say, attempting to make my escape.

Kelly’s laugh follows me out. “A match made in heaven!”

xXx

_Oh, God, why did he send me this…_

Now I can’t get that damn picture out of my head.

Liam sent me a semi-nude photo of himself. Just like mine. In the bathroom after a shower, wrapped only in a towel. And he has this smug grin on his face and this twinkle in his eye and I can’t stop staring at it.

_Fuck, what do I do with this…_

Deleting it feels rude. Keeping it feels awkward.

So I just stare at it and hope something will happen.

What, I don’t know.

Just something.

_To: Liam 4:55pm_

_Why did you send me this_

**_From: Liam 4:55pm_ **

**_Are you saying you hate it_ **

_To: Liam 4:56pm_

_Why_

**_From: Liam 4:57pm_ **

**_Delete it if you want_ **

**_I thought it would make you feel better_ **

**_4:58pm_ **

**_I thought it would make us even_ **

_To: Liam 5:00pm_

_I don’t even know how to respond to that_

**_From: Liam 5:00pm_ **

**_Its at least a good kind of speechless right_ **

**_Because if not I am failing miserably_ **

I shake my head. I don’t even know how to respond to this. I pocket my phone, finally, and get up to fix supper. I can deal with this later.

xXx

The texts don’t stop there.

Liam keeps sending me semi-nude pictures of himself with a suggestive message attached to it. He is determined, I will give him that, but I will not fall for it. I will not give in simply because he has an attractive body, and he is my friend. I don’t date friends, anyway; it gets awkward if it doesn’t work out, and I know we won’t work out. We never will. I have too much baggage, and I have this condition. I won’t be able to feel his touches as much as someone else; there is very little point in getting together.

This doesn’t stop him from continuously messaging me.

And then when we do hang out, he doesn’t mention them at all. It’s like he never sent them in the first place, but I know better. I have the evidence to prove it. But I don’t bring it up, either, because that would be awkward. It’s almost like I’m talking to two different people – Liam, who I’m getting to know fairly well, and this guy who texts me pictures of himself in an effort to… what? Seduce me?

_It’s not going to work._

I don’t know why I don’t tell him to stop.

xXx

Weeks pass and turn into months. I’ve been his friend for nearly eight months now; the pictures have stopped. I am grateful, and yet also… disappointed, I guess. I think I was enjoying the attention on some level, and enjoying the view those pictures provided. I was only a man, after all, and Liam was attractive, especially with that accent.

More than once I pictured him when I was ‘relieving’ myself of stress or whatever. I never told him this, of course.

Kelly kept hinting that we should get together, but I ignored her. She and Liam got along well enough, and thankfully she kept the embarrassing stories to a minimum. However, she did go into great detail at how I would love his body, when we were in private. She would never say it to his face.

This isn’t going to happen, though. I am not going to have sex with Liam. We are not an item; we are merely friends.

Thankfully the pictures have stopped, and it’s getting easier to get them out of my mind since I deleted them from my phone. I don’t mention any of this to my therapist, of course, though he does ask if I am interested in seeing anyone. I need to be more social, he tells me, and so I hang out with Liam more and more.

“Oh, let’s go here,” Liam says, tapping my shoulder. We’ve been walking down a street nearly the very small mall in our town – I only call it that because it has multiple stores attached to it – getting presents for Christmas which will be here in two short weeks, and he pulls me into another store.

I already have bags full of heavy things. I debate about abandoning him to take these things to the car, but I don’t remember where we parked. Liam drove; I was a little preoccupied at the time, still remembering those pictures though I tried to get them out of my head.

Now every time I see him, though, it is all I can see.

His clothes really don’t do him justice. His shirts are always loose-fitting, and his pants are always fairly shapeless and faded. But I’ve seen him without a shirt and without pants, and I know his stomach is flat and muscled. I know he likes to wear briefs instead of boxers. I know his hips look-

_Oh, God, I’m thinking about hips. How odd can I be?_

I shake the thoughts away as I watch him pay for some trinket he bought.

“For my sister,” he says.

He doesn’t speak about his sister very often. I haven’t even met her yet.

She lives out of state, apparently.

“Can we go now?” I ask hopefully.

He smiles and nods. I like his smile. It softens all of his features and makes him look more boyish, despite the five-o-clock shadow growing on his face.

We leave that particular store and begin searching for the car.

Once we find it, we climb in and he keys the ignition after tossing his things in the back. My arms feel much better now that I’m not carrying around all of that heavy stuff.

“Wanna eat?” he asks. “I’m starving.”

I nod. “Sounds good,” I tell him.

He pulls out of the parking lot, and we travel through town.

The pictures start again the next day.

And I smile.

xXx

We’ve been friends for nearly a year. The semi-nude texts don’t stop. By this point I’m expecting them, and I smile, and secretly flip through them. I’ve downloaded them to my computer, in their own personal file, so I can delete them from my phone. I don’t know why I don’t just delete them entirely. There’s absolutely no reason not to delete them. Looking at them isn’t helping me.

Even so, I keep them. I keep them, and I look at them, and I spend time with Liam like nothing is out of the ordinary. We have weekly movie nights, sometimes at my place, sometimes at his. We eat popcorn out of the same bag, and when our fingers brush together occasionally, I quickly extract my hand and wait for him to get his handful before returning to the bag. We also have beer on hand – beer and popcorn aren’t the best combination, but it works well enough.

We have move nights, and on the weekends we hand out at bars. We’ve even gone bowling with my sister. I’ve yet to meet his family, but he says they live out of state and I won’t meet them until Christmas. We are spending the holidays together, he tells me, and I don’t argue. I don’t know why I don’t, because I should. I should balk at the fact he just assumes I will be joining him, and writes me into his schedule without bothering to ask me, but honestly I don’t mind. I planned to spend time with him anyway, in the back of my mind. Even Kelly knows this.

It’s nine months into our friendship that I realize I do truly like him.

It’s nothing dramatic, or even that great of a realization. There is no grand epiphany. I don’t call him in the middle of the night and tell him anything. Instead I simply wake from a dream wherein he and I were in bed together, naked and writhing in twisted pleasure, and I acknowledge things I previously ignored.

I like Liam. I am attracted to him. I like his personality, and his friendship.

Which is why nothing can happen between us. Even if I wanted something to happen – _and I do, I really do, a part of me is adamant about this_ – nothing can happen, because I can’t feel anything. Literally – pleasure is a type of pain. It is a sensation I can’t truly feel. Sex has always been difficult because of this. Even stimulating myself for a little self-pleasure and self-release is difficult, and takes a long time. Takes so much time I haven’t even attempted it in years.

So if Liam and I did get into bed… he would learn how much of a freak I am.

And then…

His texts will stop. Somehow, this is the deciding factor.

He will realize how much of a freak I am, that nothing can happen between us, and he will withdraw. The nude pictures – _and they are getting much more nude, with barely anything hiding him from sight, inching ever closer to full nudity and my heart races as I think of this_ – will stop, his obvious flirting via texts will stop…

Maybe even his friendship.

And I can’t.

I can’t.

_I can’t._

So I do nothing about this little revelation. I like Liam, but I can’t do anything about it. Friendship is all we can ever have. I could tell him this point blank, instead of leading him on, letting him hope there might be something more someday… but then it will all stop.

And I can’t.

xXx

 

“Merry Christmas, mate!”

I barely have time to register these words before my arms are full of Liam. He’s warm and heavy in my hold – that is all that I can feel through the muted senses, the muted nerves. I smile as he pulls away from his impromptu hug and gestures with a wave of his hand toward the large room before us. Despite its largeness, there are very few people.

“Everyone, this is Kevin,” Liam says, and they seem to know who I am immediately after those words.

My face is hot. Liam has been speaking about me, obviously.

Embarrassment is not a familiar feeling. I don’t know what to do with myself. I clasp my hands together in front of me and nod briefly at the occupants of the room.

“Kevin, this is my sister, Lydia,” Liam says, gesturing toward a girl who looks a lot like him, honestly. She has pretty green eyes, a shade lighter than Liam’s, and her hair is a wavy, dark brown color instead of the black of Liam’s short-cropped hair. There are only two other occupants in the room, and Liam waves a hand toward them as he introduces them. “Adrian, Lydia’s husband. Megan, Lydia’s best friend.”

I smile at them and nod hello. Lydia gets up and moves toward me, her smile positively _predatory_.

I want to run.

She wraps me in a hug and then releases me, looking at Liam with a wink. “You’re right, Li-Li; he’s positively _scrumptious_.”

She doesn’t have quite the accent like Liam does, but her words nevertheless are very clear, and my face is melting. _Melting_. I am going to be without a face and walk around like a skeleton. Kids are going to run in terror.

 _Melting_.

Liam’s face pales and he ‘ _shhh_ ’s her and clamps a hand over her mouth, looking at me with a hesitant smile. “Heh, don’t listen to her, mate. She’s, um… certifiably insane, she is. Pay her no mind. She – _ow_!” He quickly removes his hand and Lydia looks positively _smug_. “You bit me, you creeper!”

Lydia smiles. “Dear brother, don’t put things near my mouth if you can’t handle it.”

Then she looks at me again.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Kevin. _This one_ can’t stop talking about you.”

“I hate you,” Liam mutters, glaring at his sister. “Feel my hatred, sister – _feel it_.”

She laughs and spins, _prancing_ away from the two of us as she retakes her seat next to her husband, who has been watching the display with an amused smile. Kelly would love this. And then I’m feeling all shaky because _oh God_ … if they meet… they will become best friends and _no_. I can’t handle two of them. I _can’t_.

“Am I early?” I asked, mostly to distract myself from such thoughts, focusing on Liam, who looks confused now. “Er – I mean, there’s not many, um… Am I early?”

He shakes his head. “No – it’s just us, mate. Family’s not very big.”

“Oh,” I say stupidly, blinking at him. I feel terrible now. “I’m sorry.”

“Pity is unbecoming,” he tells me. He then walks away, out of the room, toward what I assume to be the kitchen.

After standing there awkwardly for a moment, I follow after him and find him pouring himself a glass of punch, which I am almost certain is spiked.

“Still, I’m sorry,” I say. “I was… insensitive.”

He shakes his head. “I never told you, so how were you to know?”

“R-Right.”

His green eyes land on me, and I am frozen. Frozen beneath the sadness lingering in that gaze, and I want it to stop. I have this overwhelming urge to hug him, even if I can’t feel it myself. “Did you never wonder why I was in therapy?”

I wince. “Of course I wondered,” I tell him truthfully. “I just… it’s not any of my business, that’s all.”

He smiles faintly. “That’s what I like about you, Kev – you’re not nosey.”

“My nose is small.”

He laughs – and I grin.

 _Success_.

“It is, that,” he replies with a small nod, before filling another glass with punch and holding it out to me. “It’s spiked, so, you know… careful, and all that, if you’re going to be driving home tonight.”

I ponder at his use of ‘if’ even as I accept the cup and take a sip of it. The alcohol in it is strong, nearly overpowering. Nevertheless, it’s not terrible. It is almost good, save for the overwhelming tang.

“So, why, um… why _were_ you in therapy…”

He’s not in therapy anymore, and hasn’t been for nearly a month.

He stills, and I regret asking. I open my mouth to take it back, when he sighs, shoulders drooping somewhat.

“It’s complicated. There are… a few reasons.”

“Oh,” I say, nodding. “I just, um… You don’t have to tell me, Liam. I’m sorry for prying. It’s none of my busi-”

“My family was murdered,” he says so bluntly it leaves me snapping my mouth closed, and I stare at him, at the way his eyes fall closed as he sucks in a slow breath. “Three years ago. Someone broke in, and… wrong place, wrong time, I guess. They were supposed to be at work, but… the next day was their anniversary, so they… were home. Anyway, they were killed. I discovered them.”

“Oh, Liam,” I say around the lump which has formed in my throat, and then I’m stepping toward him, my hand lightly touching his shoulder. He stiffens minutely, and then relaxes, his eyes opening as he glances at me. “I’m so sorry.”

The words – I hate those words. Everyone says them when they don’t know what to say, and I hated hearing them after my own parents died. And now I am saying them to Liam, and I feel _guilty_.

His smile is sad, but honest. “It’s okay, Kevin. I’m over it, mostly. That’s not the… only reason I was in therapy, but it is a factor. Anyway!” He brightens, and I know it is forced, but I go along with it nevertheless, smiling with him. “We should get back to them. Dinner should be ready soon, and then we can open presents.”

“I… I didn’t…” My smile fades.

“Didn’t get me anything?” he asks, and I nod. “Don’t worry about it – that you’re here is enough.”

And then he’s leaving the room, and I’m staring after him.

_“That you’re here is enough.”_

I’m smiling, and I can’t stop. I don’t want to.

I enter the main room in time to see Liam popping a pill into his mouth while his sister scowls at him. He smiles and pats her head, and she sighs before looking over at me. Liam glances over and smiles as he puts his cup of punch down on the center table in front of the couch, where his sister and her husband sit. Megan has taken the recliner on Lydia’s left. There is a recliner on Lydia’s husband’s right which is empty, and I sit in when I realize Liam is content with sitting on the arm of the couch, next to his sister.

“Alright,” Liam says, “how is everyone? It’s been… what, six months since I last saw you?” His smile brightens as he looks at me. “Except you, mate. I see you every day.”

I want to argue, but realize he is speaking the truth.

I have seen every day for… a while now.

Huh. When did that start?

xXx

 

I stay at Liam’s that night. Not through any choice of my own, really – I pass out on the couch after we have watched _A Christmas Story_ for the third time. It is nearly three in the morning by then, and I have consumed a lot of alcohol. Not just the punch, but we drank wine at dinner, and there was some brandy passed around as well. And eggnog. Spiked eggnog. I am thoroughly hammered and can’t drive.

I sleep on the couch.

I am woken a few hours later, the sun barely up and birds chirping through the window, to the sound of curses coming from the kitchen. Tired, dizzy, and sick to my stomach, I roll off the couch and stumble into the kitchen to see what is happening. I find Liam jumping on one leg, holding onto his other foot, curses to himself with that wonderful accent of his. I am still slightly drunk; it has only been five hours since I passed out.

Liam looks up and drops his foot back to the ground when he realizes I am in the room with him. “Oh,” he says nervously, “sorry, did I wake you, mate?”

“What happened?” I ask, happy my voice doesn’t slur.

“Stubbed my toe,” he mutters, glaring at the leg of the table, which is probably the culprit of said toe stubbing. “I’m making some coffee, if you want some.”

Coffee sounds good, so I nod and sit at the table, cradling my head in my hands. The world is spinning. Suddenly a hand is in front of me, and there are pills in it.

“Aspirin,” Liam says when I just stare at the offering, and I nod my thanks as he puts down a small glass of water as well. I take the pills and finish the water, drinking greedily, and when I finished with that, the coffee is done. A steaming mug is place in front of me. Liam is too good to me.

I breathe in the scent of freshly made coffee and take a few careful sips of the hot liquid.

“I told you to be careful last night,” Liam muses as he sits next to me with own cup of coffee.

I scowl at the brown liquid in front of me. “What?”

“About drinking,” he clarifies. “I warned you not to drink too much and to be careful.”

“Ugh, please, no lectures right now, I’m nauseous.”

He chuckles.

“How are _you_ so bright-eyed, anyway?” I all but accuse, tossing my scowl his way, managing to lift my head enough to do so without feeling like I might topple over out of the chair, still dizzy and nauseous. “You drank just as much as me!”

He shrugs. “I didn’t, actually. I actually had _ice_ in my drinks, see. Means I had less alcohol, and what I did have was eventually watered down. You could learn a thing or two from me, mate.”

I shake my head, sighing. “Teach me your ways, oh great Liam Jones.”

He laughs. It is a pleasant sound.

“I can’t feel it, you know,” I say quietly. It is so sudden I don’t realize I have spoken until I realize I have Liam’s undivided attention. He is watching me with those bright green eyes of his that I mentioned. “Um… I mean…”

“Can’t feel what?” he asks.

“Pain,” I tell him. “It’s a medical condition. I can’t feel physical pain. At all.”

“I see,” he says slowly. “How am I just now learning this?”

“I, uh… I didn’t… think it was necessary to… tell you. It’s not important, really.”

Why – _why did I tell him._

Now he is going to put two and two together and realize what a freak I am. Those pictures are going to stop. The flirting, everything…

I close my eyes. I don’t feel my stomach churning, really, but I do taste bile in the back of my throat. I am aware of that lump in my throat as well.

“So… what _can_ you feel?” he asks after a few moments of awkward silence.

I slouch in my chair.

I don’t know how to answer this without him pulling away. Without…

“Nothing,” I whisper, my mouth too dry at the moment.

“Nothing?”

“ _Nothing_. I can’t feel anything. No pain. No… pleasure.”

“No _pleasure_?” His voice is laden with incredulity. “Like… what do you mean by that, exactly? Like…? What can you feel? Can you feel it when people touch you?”

“No,” I answer, because I started this conversation and now I have to finish it. I open my eyes and look down at the coffee mug in front of me. “All I feel is – pressure. That’s it. It’s not… I mean… It’s difficult to explain.”

“So if I punched you right now…”

“I wouldn’t feel it. I might feel a bit of pressure to know I’ve been touched, in a way, but there won’t be any pain. I might not even notice it if I’m not paying attention and it happens quickly,” I tell him.

“If I hugged you…”

“Pressure. Nothing more. It’s… strange.”

“Shouldn’t it be normal for you?”

I scowl. “I _used_ to be able to feel hugs. I couldn’t feel pain, but hugs were… I could feel them. It jumped into overdrive about ten years ago. I don’t know why. I couldn’t feel hugs anymore. It’s just pressure.”

He is silent for a long moment. I stare down at the coffee and wish I didn’t start this conversation. Now he is going to stop speaking to me – everything will stop. Everything I was trying to avoid.

“So… sex…”

“Nothing,” I croak, clenching my eyes closed. “I don’t feel… I mean… Nothing.”

“So you can’t… get off…?”

“It is… difficult. I don’t… I don’t bother anymore. It’s… I can’t… I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Okay,” he says gently. “Okay, Kevin. Let’s talk about something else. Are you hungry? I could fix breakfast. The others will probably be asleep for a while. I’m an early riser. Did you have fun last night? Did you like your presents? I told Lydia not to make you that sweater but she’s stubborn, you know?”

I smile at his rapid change in topics. It eases my mind in a way. I open my eyes and look at him. “Thanks,” I say quietly.

He smiles. “I’ll fix breakfast.”

He gets to his feet and goes to do just that. He doesn’t speak of my condition. He doesn’t ask anymore question, or even look at me different. He still talks to me – his eyes are still warm as they look me over. Still flirting.

I watch him the whole time he cooks breakfast – bacon and eggs. The smell makes me nauseous, but I know I need to eat. Plus, it’s not often someone cooks for me. Kelly wants nothing to do with cooking. She will do everything in her power to get out of doing it. That and dishes. If she had her way she would never go into the kitchen.

Finally I can’t take it anymore.

“So it doesn’t bother you?” I blurt.

He doesn’t even hesitate in what he’s doing. “Bother me?” he asks almost absently.

“My condition.”

“Should it?”

I swallow. “I… I don’t know. I just… um…”

“I don’t think any differently about you, if that’s what you’re asking, mate.”

I release a slow breath, shoulders relaxing. “Oh. Okay. Good.”

“Did you really think it would bother me that much?” he asks, finally looking over his shoulder at me, catching my eyes.

“I… I don’t know. I mean… Um… I can’t feel anything, so…”

“You’re still my friend,” he says. “Why should that change?”

I shrug even as a part of me is… _disappointed_. Still his friend. But that’s all I am.

But that’s fine because I never asked for more. I never wanted more. I can’t have more. It’s not fair to him.

_It’s not fair to me…_

I sigh and go back to my coffee.

xXx

 

We don’t mention my condition again the whole time I am there. It’s not until after I leave that he texts me, and again it feels like I am speaking to two different people – Liam, and someone who sends me lewd texts and photos.

**_From: Liam 1:02pm_ **

**_See if you feel anything_ **

And then there is a picture of him, and he’s entirely naked. _Entirely_. I see him only from the back and he’s twisted at the hips, looking into the camera and smile that particularly lewd grin of his that is in a lot of these pictures.

And he has a nice ass.

I can’t stop looking at it, and smiling.

I’m responding even though I don’t realize it at first.

_To: Liam 1:04pm_

_You still want to do this even after knowing I cant feel anything_

**_From: Liam 1:04pm_ **

**_Why should that stop me_ **

_To: Liam 1:05pm_

_Because I cant feel anything_

_I cant feel you doing anything_

_So why_

It is silent for a long time. No more texts arrive. I put it down on the table as I sit in the living room of my apartment, and try not to feel… whatever it is I’m feeling. I have never been good at describing such things. He has finally decided I am right, and will stop this nonsense.

I should be happy.

I am not.

The phone buzzes and vibrates before it falls silent. Another text.

I take in a breath and look at it.

**_From: Liam 1:09pm_ **

**_I always did like a challenge_ **

**_Youre stuck with me mate_ **

I stare at the message for a long time.

And then I laugh.

xXx

It’s New Year’s when I give in.

Truly and thoroughly give into that big, bright-eyed look of his as he leans toward me as the ball drops on TV. We are at his place, celebrating. His sister had to go back home after Christmas, so it is just the two of us in his apartment, like always.

And he’s looking at me with this smile as we sit together on the couch. We’re eating popcorn, and our fingers touched again. I didn’t pull away this time. Instead I register the fact his fingers have entwined with my own. My fingers always did have the most sensation – otherwise I wouldn’t be able to hold a pencil, really. They can feel, if only just, and it’s not pain. It’s just… _sensation_. And his fingers are there with mine.

And then he’s leaning toward me.

He’s not drunk – he’s had one beer. He never drinks a lot. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him drunk. So there’s really no excuse for him to be doing this, be leaning in like this, and holding onto my fingers in a bag of popcorn. We are going to get so greasy.

I know what’s going to happen if I don’t move away.

But by this point – he’s accepted me. He’s accepted my condition, and the texts and pictures haven’t stopped. I dream of him more and more – I dream of _feeling_ , even though I know I can’t. It is a physical impossibility. But he doesn’t seem phased by this.

And I’ve been fighting this for so long – I can’t do it anymore.

So I give in.

I give in, don’t move away, and our lips meet as the ball drops.

The kiss is rough – it’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone I’m not even sure I remember how to do it. It’s sloppy, and messy, and probably not very good but he drinks it in. I register the brush of his tongue against my own and wonder, briefly, when my mouth opened to allow him entrance. Nevertheless, he tastes _good_. Popcorn and beer. And another taste – _him_.

When he pulls away he is breathless, and he is grinning that stupid lopsided smile of his. “Happy New Year,” he says, and maybe it’s the accent, but he has never sounded _happier_.

He sounds happy, and content, and I can’t stop smiling. It is contagious.

“Happy New Year,” I reply quietly, just watching him.

“You let me kiss you,” he says, still grinning. And then his fingers are out of the popcorn bag, and I withdraw my hand finally. Then his fingers are on my face, touching. He is going to get me all greasy, but I don’t pull back, and I don’t move away. I let him do as he wishes. “Can you feel this?” he asks, running his thumb along my jawline.

“Kind of,” I tell him. “It’s… difficult to explain. It’s a sensation and pressure, nothing more.”

He nods, his smiling slipping a little. “I like you, Kevin.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “I like you, too,” I admit finally. I admit it aloud for the first time since I realized it myself.

“I haven’t liked anyone like this in… a long time. Years.”

I smiled fondly, because his expression is so open, so raw. “Me too,” I tell him. “I don’t… think I’ve _ever_ …”

And I haven’t. I’ve never liked someone as much as I like him, and it scares me. Scares me because I don’t know what to do with this information. I met him at my therapist’s, for crying out loud. What a strange place to meet someone. A friend, even _whatever it is_ we are, or might become. I don’t know what I can give to him – I don’t know what he wants, or is willing to accept. I don’t know how this is going to work, but I’m done running.

I can’t do it anymore.

I can’t physical feel – but my heart can. And it wants this to work.

For once I won’t shy away.

“I look forward to making you feel, Kevin,” he says, and there’s that goofy smile again.

“Not gonna work,” I tell him.

“We’ll see, mate. We’ll see. Your body is reacting to my touch, you know.”

I frown, and then realize where his other hand has gone. It is along my hips, inching ever closer to-

I stare down at the bulge in my pants.

“Even if you can’t feel it,” he says calmly, “your body knows. So there’s hope.”

I don’t know what to do with this information. I haven’t felt like this before – and I never noticed my body reacting to _anything_ before.

And then I’m moving – I’m kissing him, hand catching in his shirt as I tug him toward me. He relents with a muffled “mmph” as his mouth meets mine, and the kiss is tender and lingering even if I can’t feel all that it entails, and I breathe in the scent of him all around me.

Him, popcorn and beer.

His hands curl somewhere on me – I’m too distracted to focus on where there might or might not be pressure on my body, and I don’t care enough to look. I just know he’s holding onto me – _somewhere_ – and I’m holding onto him.

And it’s okay if we never let go.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There might be inconsistencies with Kevin's condition; it was really hard to remember he couldn't feel pain and could only feel pressure and internal things and stuff so I had to keep checking myself and deleting bits and pieces and changing them. I probably missed a few; I'm sorry. This is only part 1 and I'm posting part 2 after this. If you enjoyed it in any way - please comment! I love comments :)


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